Peter Thinks
by kaho-saku
Summary: Ficlets on Peter and Stiles. Peter thinks. Stiles is Stiles.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Teen Wolf,_ nor am I making ant profit from this.

Author Note: I honesty don't know what I did here. I don't even _watch _Teen Wolf! Haven't seen even a _single episode _of the series. I blame Tumblr. Anyway, here's a little drabble on Steter. Enjoy.

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Peter thinks as he marks Stiles' neck, as though it's a blank canvas and he is a toddler with finger paint. He thinks and regrets, just for a moment, that he is no longer an Alpha. That he can no longer _turn_ Stiles. But then he hears Stiles' moaning and stuttered breath, and no longer regrets, for he is too busy making Stiles moan again, lose his breath again, scream Peter's name again.

So, Peter thinks, afterwards as he holds Stiles' spent and rested, though not still, never still, body close. He can't _turn_ Stiles anymore, but, that's fine, cause with Stiles as _human_, the marks that Peter leaves on his body create a beautiful symphony of colors. A symphony that Stiles grumbles about, scolds Peter about, but is proud and a little happy about (not that Stiles will tell Peter that; Peter knows though) and doesn't hide. Never hides.

Peter decides that thinking is over rated anyway; at least when it comes to his and Stiles relationship.

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AN: Please Review, if possible. Thank you! :)


	2. Peter stills

There are days when Peter simply stops. Stops trying, stops feeling, stops doing. Stops thinking. There are days when Peter is still.

It's a stillness that scares Stiles, because he understands where it comes from. Understands it as if it were written in the simplest of words, shown in the simplest of pictures. Understands it because some days, less often now than before (before Peter), he too stands still, goes numb. It is a numbness of grief, of sorrow, of memories never made. A mourning of could bes, and what ifs.

There are days when Peter is still, lost in the memories of a past that went up in flames. And these are filled with Stiles, even when Peter does not see him, cannot notice him, so lost in the past, Stiles is there.

And when these days are over, and they do get over, both of them go to say goodbye (over and over; again and again) to those who went before them.

Stiles smiles, when Peter starts thinking again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don not Own _Teen Wolf_ and its Characters.**

**A/N: The poem used here "Do you Recall?" is one of my own. **

* * *

_Do you recall the time when laughter rang through our homes, and people joined us to sing its song?_

Peter remembers a home filled with laughter and joy. A home that celebrated every minor and major achievement of its members without fail. "You got a B+ in your report? Cookies!", "You won the Science Fair? Cake!", "You passed the Bar! Favorite Restaurant!".

His home had been filled with warmth, a shared warmth of family and loved ones. It was loud, a loudness that didn't grate the ears, but soothed it. He remembers his Dad, and later Talia, singing while making breakfast for the 'brood'. He recalls joining in after a while, both as a child and as an adult.

He knows how different he and Talia were, but right now, he can only recall them singing in the Kitchen, with the sun shining through the window. He doesn't remember the songs, but he does remember the laughter in their voices, and the calm love in both their eyes.

* * *

_Do you recall when our sadness could not be contained and stained our loved ones throughout?_

Stiles broke down after his mom's death. Great heaving sobs, chocking breath, blocked nose - the works. It was the first time (and last) after his mom's death that Stiles had cried that hard. He remembers his dad's arms around him, remembers the wetness of his dad's shirt by the time he was done, remembers his dad's tears straining Stiles' hair and shirt.

Stiles could not find in him to cry after that. His dad had gone into a drunken spiral, which had left Stiles to raise himself and his dad from the numbing void left behind by death. What was the _point _of crying, when nothing changed? So, he had screwed up all his hurt and loneliness and turned it into harsh strength, strength he needed to move forward.

* * *

_Do you recall the times when light was bright, and darkness held a den of stories to be explored?_

Peter had _loved _the dark. Darkness meant _hunting _and _running_ in the forest that was the Hale family's backyard. The freedom that darkness gave was heady. Dark meant no more hiding a _part_ of yourself. It meant that he could let his wolf run _free_, and that was amazing. It had also meant pack-bonding, sharing of yips and barks, play fighting and learning.

He had _loved _the dark. Just as he had _loved_ the light.

Light had meant control, it had meant mind-games and libraries to explore. Light had meant using his wolfish human mind to win a game against the humans. Peter had _loved_ pitting his mind against others, and _winning._ It had been a matter of _games_ then, not life and death (not as it is now).

* * *

_Do you recall how fear was fought from a loved ones arms, and despair was the death of a doll?_

Stiles remembers how it was _before_. It is how he sees his life now, in _befores_ and _afters _: Before Mom's death - After Mom's death; Before Scott was Bitten - After Scott was Bitten; Before Peter - After Peter (he prefers his life _After Peter_, truth be told). But now, he recalls his life Before Mom's death. He remembers how _free_ he had been with his emotions and feelings.

He loves his mom, and she had been the one he had gone to, always, when overwhelmed by the world. His nightmares (both real and fictional) had been soothed by his mother, as she held him in her arms. He remembers the turtle stuffed toy he had (he had loved that doll), and how it had torn due to lengthy use. Stiles recalls easily the devastation he had felt at the tearing of his doll; Ms. Luna had been a beautiful painted turtle toy, and she had been with him _everywhere_. He had gone to his mother, Ms. Luna's stuffing coming out of her seams. Mom had tried to repair her, but age and constant use had made it almost impossible. So, she had held Stiles as he mourned for his doll, held him close and let him cry.

Afterwards, she had helped him plant flowers for Ms. Luna's grave. "Death can only be countered with Life", she had said, as they planted Sunflowers in their backyard.

In the After Mom's death phase, Stiles had planted Marigolds, more Sunflowers, Lilies, Daisies and Roses in their garden (his father had looked on and kept silent).

* * *

_Do you recall the first time you saw a swing, and thought they were the training wheels to your wings?_

Peter knows about Stiles' love for heights. It terrifies him. He knows, if given the chance, Stiles would build wings for himself and _fly_, fly as far as he can, as long as he can.

Stiles had told him about the first time he went to the Park. How his mother had held on to his hand, tightly, not letting go, as she knew his curiosity would not let him stay in one place. According to Claudia, Stiles had strained against her hand, wanting to explore every nook and cranny of this new world she had brought him to. She had told Stiles (and Stiles had told Peter) about how Stiles had refused to come down from the swings, telling his mother that a few more swings were all he needed to reach the sky. Stiles had always wanted to fly. Peter is scared of being left behind.

Stiles doesn't know how to say that being with Peter makes him feel like he has wings, makes him feel light as air, and as content as clouds. He doesn't know, but he is going to try, because he does not like Peter's fear.

* * *

_Or do you recall the times when our innocence was good, instead of naïve and fool-worthy?_

There was a time when Derek's innocent view of the world had made Peter smile. Derek had been so trusting, and Peter had taken great joy in making the child believe all sorts of nonsensical things. There had been a period where Derek had truly believed that Werewolves had been born as a result of the Moon taking human form, and mating with a Wolf. Talia had been both amused and resigned when Derek had asked about this (Wide-eyed innocent). She had tried to get Peter to stop ("Peter. Peter, No". "Peter, Yes!"), but her efforts had been half-hearted. She too had enjoyed Derek's innocent view of the world (She was also Peter's sister, and had shared more than a few traits with him).

But for all that Peter was cynical about the world (one of the reason he had enjoyed Derek's view, it had been refreshing), even _he_ could not contemplate Kate's _usage_ of Derek's personality. Who _could _have thought, that a person would take advantage of a broken-hearted sixteen year old _child_?

It is never _Derek _that Peter blames for the fire (for all that he implies it), it is himself and Talia. They _should _have known (how could they have known?) and done more to counter Derek's trusting nature (he had been a child, and it had never been a problem before). And because of their failure (_no one_ could have foreseen Kate Argent's coldness in using a _child_) their Derek is now but a shell of the boy he was, and their family has been burnt to the ground.

The new pack is trying, they are growing, but… It is not the same.

* * *

_Do you recall when exactly we were taught to hide?_

_Or how to lie with a smile?_

Stiles' life After Mom's death, and even After Scott was bitten, has been full of hiding. He had hid his sadness from his father (not that it needed all that much effort, at least in the beginning), he had hid his father's bottles from him, he had hid his Dad's drunkenness at home from the well-wishers, and he had hid the broken shards of the bottle his dad had thrown at him from everyone. And after Werewolves came into the picture, he had merely upped his hiding talent a notch to include the Supernatural. He hid werewolves from his father, from Lydia, from the school and the general Beacon Hills population. He hid and hid, until even he had trouble remembering _what _he was hiding.

He learnt how to smile to avoid deflection, as a part of his hiding talent. He had almost forgotten what it meant to smile because you _wanted _to, rather than because you _had _to.

With Peter though, he remembers how _not _to hid. It is freeing.

* * *

_When did laughter become a whisper, and crying a secret? When did fear turn to loathing, and despair crushing? _

Stiles and Peter, Peter and Stiles. Two peas in a pod, for all that they are separated by age and species. These days they share their laughter and sadness only with each other. The pack gets a little of both of them, but not all. Once bitten, twice shy. But with each other, they share. Whispers of laughter, the secret of tears.

They share their mutual fear of loss, and turn it into a ferocious weapon against those who would bring loss to their pack. They are protection to their pack and death to all who think of harming them. They have no room for mercy, for they know the crush of despair and they never want to feel it again.

They are broken, but with each other, they are true if not healed.

* * *

_When did we grow up to lose ourselves? Do you recall?_

They are not who they were before life took offence at their individual happiness. They have lost people, and with them they have lost a part (a big part) of themselves. And just as how the dead can't be brought to life (Peter is an exception; Stiles thanks deities he doesn't believe in for giving him back), the parts they lost can never come back. They are always going to be a little bit harder, a little bit colder, a little slower to trust.

And that's okay. As long as they have each other, they will face the world, and dare to be happy again. Both alone and together.

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**AN2: As mentioned in AN1, the poem in italics is something I wrote. As I was thinking of writing something for Peter Thinks, it came to me that this poem would work _really_ well for both Peter and Stiles' life. So, here it is.**

**Let me know what you think! And ****Thanks for reading!**


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